The more I expect the less I get. The bigger the appetite the more I forget just how much my stomach can hold, the way you used to hold me is inadequate, the food I liquidate makes me constantly hungry, so I eat even if there is no space to taste how delicious this all is. I can only feel the hunger now, and the fatter I get the more empty I feel inside, where you used to be, when I was capable of feeling still, the constant Americanization of requirements for emotional fulfillment, what am I seeking, the trophy of winning or the joy of playing, because right now I am losing on both fronts, and the war has gotten stale, the soldiers wasting away, I see you: seasoned and reasoned, walking away, having seen that this war is done, even if it isn’t finished
When I used to be skinny, everything poked out from my skin, selfsufficient hurt upon contact with the chair, wall, the bed that wasn’t quite soft enough to make for my lack of body. Now I stand with weight, padded against the things that hurt, the chair, the wall, the floor and your body. When I used to feel everything, I now feel nothing, the before and after equally painful.
"excessive food intake"
might be
the only way
to tell how i am doing
my mother seems to think
if she's still eating
she must be okay
the more she eats
the better life is
meanwhile,
i see her growing thin.
my mother is a loving woman
my mother is a caregiver
my mother is a worrier
my mother is a fool
sometimes
it frightens me
sometimes
the degree to which
she does not know me
but maybe it is because
she is often so afraid
to know herself
and what am i but an extension
of herself?
might be
the only way
to tell how i am doing
my mother seems to think
if she's still eating
she must be okay
the more she eats
the better life is
meanwhile,
i see her growing thin.
my mother is a loving woman
my mother is a caregiver
my mother is a worrier
my mother is a fool
sometimes
it frightens me
sometimes
the degree to which
she does not know me
but maybe it is because
she is often so afraid
to know herself
and what am i but an extension
of herself?
Sunday, September beings
The fat phase is well in progress
The belly has emerged and droops Over
the boundaries it has come to find Restricting
We sat on the roof and chatted
The three of us all a little drunk
We pushed each other around
Testing the taste of hate
I am all soft now
Soft spoken
soft to the touch of others
Every motion on me
Feels impossibly violent
Late at night I feed and vomit
The words I have always said
Clutching the bed in a flayed position
With the intent of a dead man's embrace
I woke up tired today.
I woke up tired.
I woke up.
I woke.
"I am, I am, I am."
The fat phase is well in progress
The belly has emerged and droops Over
the boundaries it has come to find Restricting
We sat on the roof and chatted
The three of us all a little drunk
We pushed each other around
Testing the taste of hate
I am all soft now
Soft spoken
soft to the touch of others
Every motion on me
Feels impossibly violent
Late at night I feed and vomit
The words I have always said
Clutching the bed in a flayed position
With the intent of a dead man's embrace
I woke up tired today.
I woke up tired.
I woke up.
I woke.
"I am, I am, I am."
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